


Changes Are Necessary

by NutheadGee



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bless The Trash Pit, Detective Kylo, Detective!Kylo, Dirty Talk, Dominant Kylo Ren, Eventual Fluff, F/M, Humour, Immigrant Reader, Mutual Masturbation, Romance, Sarcasm, Shameless Garbage, Smut, Strong Female Characters, don't send help
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-09
Updated: 2016-11-14
Packaged: 2018-08-20 09:47:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8244863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NutheadGee/pseuds/NutheadGee
Summary: You were just a secretary, trying to work your way into a better life after moving to the United States for a better future. You had no intention for working for a shifty boss or getting yourself involved with the sexy detective that was working on the case of the aforementioned shifty boss, who, it turned out, was involved in a lot worse crimes than you previously thought.However, getting with Detective Kylo Solo-Skywalker was a change from your otherwise routine life, and as you were well aware, change was necessary, and as much as you hated change, this was one you wouldn't mind working with at all.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So me, thejedislayer and knightsoforgana (both on Tumblr) were thirsting over Kylo Ren (as usual) and we came up with Detective Kylo and after some enabling and a lot more thirsting this happened. They're a terrible influence on me TBH but I love them to bits. BITS.
> 
> I promise I'm working on Universal Misadventures. I PROMISE.
> 
> P.S. This is gonna be a much shorter project, maybe 5 or so chapters, I'm not too sure yet, but it def won't exceed 5 chapters. Anyway, enjoy.

This was  _ not  _ how you were expecting your day, let alone month, to begin.

You stood there stupidly, in front of your former workplace, apparently closed, taped with those obnoxious yellow and black police tapes that screamed ‘POLICE! CRIME SCENE! DO NOT CROSS!’ with disgusting Starbucks coffee in a tray for your boss.

Or, as you were soon to find out, formally your boss.

Not to mention it was about three degrees outside today. You were a tropical creature. You were  _ not  _ used to this kind of weather.

There were police officers everywhere, both in uniform and not in uniform. Considering your skin colour, you chose not to move anywhere near where they uniformed ones stood, menacingly glaring at anyone or anything that looked like they wanted to go near them, clutching at their holsters, so you just stood there and hoped someone would notice you and perhaps explain what was happening, though you were sure it had something to do with that anonymous call you placed over the weekend.

“Hey!” someone yelled across the street. You weren’t sure if it was at you or not. “Hey you, lady with the coffee, what are you doing here?”

It was definitely directed at you, as you were the only human being here that could remotely be classified as a lady and you were holding coffee. “I-I’ve come to work,” you responded, turning to the direction of the voice. It was a young man, looking somewhat dishevelled, even through his formal shirt, slacks, tie and shoes. His hands were gloved, and he had a long coat and a scarf. His face was slightly red, no doubt from the cold. He looked significantly less intimidating and perhaps more important than the policemen in uniform, so you turned to him and started walking towards him, thankful for the good judgement that told you to wear flats instead of the boots you wanted to wear.

“You work here?” he asked you, suddenly whipping a notebook and pen from seemingly absolutely nowhere.

“Yes,” you nodded. “I normally report to work with my boss’ coffee order every morning, but I came and I saw all this commotion and I thought maybe someone would tell me what was going on. I didn't want to interrupt. I doubted you’d appreciate it.”

The unsaid words went unsaid, but he understood them. With all the violence against black people by law enforcement recently, it was best to avoid confrontations altogether if possible. It was probably doubly worse for you, considering you were a foreigner, albeit a legal resident.

The man in the suit and the scarf stopped scribbling for a moment and looked at you. “You worked for Philip Strasson?” he asked you slowly.

You swallowed. Fuck. “Yes.”

“What did you do?”

Did? Had Mr. Strasson escaped already? Perhaps he was dead?

“I was his secretary.”

Again, he regarded you carefully. “Please stand by. Do not leave this place. I’ll be back momentarily.”

The temptation to roll your eyes was strong, but again, you were a black woman, a  _ foreign _ black woman, surrounded by police officers. Something as insignificant as breathing wrongly in front of them would have you looking like a sieve in seconds, so despite your impatience, you decided it was best to cooperate.

“Of course,” you responded.

He immediately turned around to go back in the direction he’d come from, nearly trotting from some sudden urgency you most likely had caused, to what to you seemed like the back of the building. You weren’t too sure, as Mr. Strasson never allowed you to go back there. It was but a matter of moments before another figure appeared, and this time, you clutched that flimsy tray of rat’s piss of an excuse a corporate called coffee harder than you gripped those dumbbells at your local gym.

He was tall, taller than anyone else you’d seen in a while, and you’d seen South Sudanese people. He was also broad and thick, an absolutely massive bloke, and even through all those layers of black he wore, you could tell that all that mass was pure muscle. His clothes were smart casual: black slacks, black boots, a black button up and black blazer. His hair, also black, was quite long, reaching those broad shoulders of his. He was walking with the much more formally dressed gentleman that spoke to you before,  who though taller than you, reached just at his shoulder, and entire head and a bit shorter than him, muttering lowly to each other. He wore black, leather gloves. You raised an eyebrow slightly at that.

Suddenly, he turned to you, catching and holding your gaze. You swallowed in both nerves and something else you couldn’t quite entirely place. His eyes were intense, a deep, rich chocolate brown. His face, slightly pale was peppered with freckles and birthmarks. His nose was prominent and his lips full.

All in all he was, most definitely, one of the most  _ handsome  _ men you had ever seen in your entire life. His features, albeit unconventional, were so proportional with each other, complementing each other well, making him  _ incredibly  _ attractive. 

He suddenly turned from you and back to his counterpart, who pointed slightly at you, before nodding vigorously at something Mr Leather gloves said. He seemed slightly flustered, his face red in this bloody terrible weather, and you wondered why, if it had something to do with you. Nonetheless, the shorter of the two turned around and rushed to the back of the building, as Mr. Leather gloves continued walking towards you.

You couldn’t move. You felt as though you were rooted to the ground, as he approached you, towering over you even from feet away. He finally got to you and all you could do was stare, feeling and most likely looking very stupid with a tray of shitty Starbucks coffee.

“Good morning, ma’am,” he greeted you, bringing his large, gloved hand forward for a greeting. “My name is Detective Kylo Solo-Skywalker. I’m in charge of this case.”

You swapped your coffee tray into your left hand, before tentatively putting your hand in his, and he gripped it firmly with an equally firm handshake. It was very warm. “My lieutenant tells me that you were Strassons’ secretary, no?”

His voice was a cool baritone, slightly drawled, as if he was perpetually bored.

“Yes,” you managed. You’d been living in this goddamn country for six insufferable years and it was just  _ now  _ that you were realising that men this fucking sexy  _ existed?!  _ Which ancestor of yours had wronged the spirits of your traditional lands so badly and had failed to repent? Why were you the one paying for all their sins?

“If it’s not too much trouble, would you mind accompanying me to the station? There’s some questions I need to ask you concerning this case.”

“Uh, s-sure. No problem.”

He started walking away, before he stopped. You almost crashed into him, a shame, because it would give you a good excuse to feel his bum and confirm to yourself if it felt as muscular as it looked.

“Forgive me for being so forward, but your accent isn’t from the United States I’m sure, and I quite can’t place it. May I know where you come from?”

“I-I’m-Kenya. I come from Kenya.” Why were you stuttering? Speech was never something you struggled with before. Was the thirst that real?

“Ah, I see.” He continued walking. You followed dumbly behind him, mentally berating yourself for behaving like a lovesick teenager. Granted the man was hot, but you were a grown-ass woman. You  _ should be able to manage yourself. _

He led you to what looked like a squad car, before leaning down into the window and quietly muttering probably instructions. He then stood back up, and walked back to the back door of the car and opened the door for you. You looked up him to thank him, before you noticed the distinct look of distaste on his face, directed at the coffee you had purchased.

He grabbed it from you, and walked to the nearest dustbin, promptly dumping it in as if it had insulted his mother. “That trash isn’t allowed in the station,” he grumbled. 

You smiled wryly, before getting into the car and allowing him to close the door for you. The window was closed, so you mouthed a ‘thank you’ at him, and he inclined his head at you to acknowledge that he understood. Blushing, you looked forward as the policeman that was on the wheel drove you to the station.

…

At the station, you met again, more formally introduced this time, the cop that had stopped you the very first time. His name was Lieutenant Mitaka, and he led you into the interrogation room. He was kind enough to bring you some tea that he had personally brewed. It wasn’t half bad, but it would be better if he left the tea bag in slightly longer before he removed it. The room was bare, with grey walls, a steel table and two steel chairs  the only furnishings. To one of the longer walls was a single-sided mirror, the cops outside being able to see into the room, but you being unable to see them. You sipped your tea, before a black lady walked into the room, smiling warmly.

“Sup,” she greeted you, her massive bosom slightly moving up and down as she did an informal salute at you. “Detective Solo-Skywalker won’t be too long. He asked me to come in and sit with you during the interrogation, because we both black and he thought you’d be more comfortable with me here, in case you thought he’d blow your brains out or some shit.”

She shrugged, grinning wolfishly at you at your slightly offended look. “I know he won’t. You probably do too, but with all the police brutality going on nowadays and shit he probably does it as a safety precaution. I mean the det’s aiight if you cooperate. If you don’t he can get pretty merciless and brutal. He’s brought some of the worst thugs to tears. It’s kinda both sad and hilarious.”

You just stared at her as she talked. You knew media was generally a lie with how it portrayed real life, but this was really just something else.

“Anyway, I’m talking too much. I’m Katarina, by the way. Det’s gonna be here soon, so prepare yourself.”

“Thanks,” was all you could say, as you turned around to take another sip of your tea. 

You both sat in comfortable silence until the detective walked in. He had taken off his blazer, and his button-up had the sleeves folded to his elbows, exposing large, muscular forearms He didn’t have a mountain of files or a pen or anything all those ridiculous things all cop shows showed you. He closed the door behind him, turning and giving a slight smile to Katarina behind you, before he turned to you. He walked towards the table, and turned the chair around, the backrest facing you. He lifted a long leg and sat, leaning over the backrest.

“The tea is good?” he asked, nodding slightly to the kettle at the edge of the table.

You looked at your hands folded on your lap.

“It’s not too bad. It would be better if it brewed a bit more, though,” you responded, a lot more quietly than you’d have liked.

“I’m sorry, I never asked your name before.”

“Katherine Kamuke.”

“Okay, Katherine. I’d like you to tell me everything about your boss. His habits, his mannerisms, his clients, and what finally gave him away to you and made you make that anonymous call on Saturday night to bust him.”

The proverbial glass shattered in your mind, and you were stunned into silent shock in your seat. How did he  _ know- _

“How I knew is for later. For now I’d like you to tell me everything about Strasson.”

You narrowed your eyes, suddenly suspicious and scared. You considered keeping quiet, being difficult until he told you how he knew that it was you that made that call, but you heard some shuffling of material behind you. You abruptly turned around, to see Katarina, casually looking at her phone screen, and then you remembered. She had your back, or so she claimed. Either way, you had some hope that at least something catastrophic wouldn’t happen to you.

You turned back to Detective Solo-Skywalker, and he was still calm, looking at you, his massive, broad shoulders hunched forward, his chin leaning on muscular forearms as he looked at you.

“He was very bossy and demanding, but generally as long as I did what he asked of me and he had nothing to bully me for, he’d generally leave me alone. He tended to have very shifty looking people coming in on Fridays. I never asked anything or questioned him, because, quite frankly, it was none of my business. I just did the paperwork and answered calls and edited his emails for him. He always demanded I never schedule anything for Fridays between the hours of eleven in the morning and two in the afternoon, but I could take calls or recieve and give out documents or parcels, as long as no one entered his office.”

The detective said nothing, his intense gaze looking right at you.

You swallowed, not sure how you’d continue. “It’s alright,” he said, his voice oddly soothing, almost hypnotic. “None of the guys outside can hear you. I told them to switch off the mics, and this room is sound proof. Only three people know what you’re gonna say, and I intend to keep it that way.”

You breathed out shakily through your nose, oddly encouraged.

“On Friday, I was filling out the books - for some reason, he trusted me to do it - and some of the numbers never made any sense. The figures weren’t balancing. There was a lot of money going in, and then a lot of it was suddenly disappearing. The same amount was always coming out, even though I was really sure that there had been extra expenditures made on certain months.”

The silence was unnerving you even more, and you looked down at your shaking hands on your lap, balling them into fists to try and reduce them from trembling so much. You took in another deep breath, waiting for someone  to say something.

“Why did you decide to report him, knowing you’d probably lose your job, and being aware of his shifty connections?”

You snorted, in an attempt to hide you fear. You doubted it worked very well.

“I did this in school, university. You can’t hand in accounting books with such huge discrepancies and hope the tax office will ignore it. I knew he’d eventually get busted and since I’m the one that filled in the numbers he gave me, I’d go down with him. I’m a foreigner, and I know how unfair the American system generally is. I’d be decimated. I’m not about that life. I knew what I had to do when I left that office on Friday, and I knew I had to do it before Monday. He’d probably suspect that it was me anyway, but considering I’m still alive, maybe there’s some small hope he doesn’t suspect me yet.”

Your voice was cracking at the end, but by some miracle you never cried. Detective Solo-Skywalker stood up, walked towards you and pulled you into an embrace, wrapping powerful arms around you. That action broke the dams, so to speak, and you buried your face in his muscular chest, choking on your sobs, one arm around his neck, the one fisting his shirt like a lifeline.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, you did the right thing,” he murmured soothingly in your ear. “I’ll do everything in my power to protect you, even from the system if I have to. You’ll be alright. I promise you. This is going to turn out okay.”

He gave you a couple of more minuted to sob, before he pulled you gently away from him. You were slightly disappointed, because he was so warm and solid and you could feel his abs through his shirt. The man had the body of a greek god.

“Thank you,” you muttered, wiping the tears away from your eyes.

“Kat over there is gonna drop you home, okay? She’s gonna get you some take out then take you home. Here,” he said, handing you his card. “I’m available on my cell 24/7. Call me anytime you remember or find out something, or if you feel scared or suspect something is amiss.”

You nodded, whispering a small ‘thank you’ again and taking the card from him, blushing slightly when your fingers brushed against his. He moved away from you, and Katarina came, pulling you into another embrace, nearly suffocating you in her bust, making you giggle. She placed her arm around your shoulders, you wrapping yours around her waist, as she led you outside to one of their cars, telling you about her dumbass son and this Ghanaian lady that could do the bombest braids this side of the country.

…

You were not ready for what you saw when you opened the door to your tiny one bedroom apartment.

The entire place was  _ trashed.  _ Your upholstery was overturned, your furniture ripped up, your dishes and appliances  broken or destroyed. Panic begun to eat at you, as you just stood at your main door, your take out all but forgotten. With shaking hands, you took out your phone and Detective Solo-Skywalker’s card. He picked up on the second ring.

“Solo-Sky.”

“De-Detective, Detective, p-please-”

“Katherine,” he sounded concerned. “What’s wrong, are you okay? Where are you? Are you at home?”

“Please, I need you. Please come over now. My p-my place…”

You couldn’t even finish the statement, your phone slipping from your hands, the detective saying your name over and over again, before he cursed and hung up, as you just stared at what was left of your apartment.


	2. Chapter 2

You were suddenly engulfed in warmth, strong arms wrapped around you, a thick muscular torso over you, a soothing baritone attempting to calm you down.

“Katherine, I need to stay with me, okay? I need you to calm down and talk to me. Say something to me.”

He unwrapped himself from you, grabbing your shoulders and slightly shaking you. Still in a shocked gaze, you looked up at him. “What’s your favourite coffee?”

“Mocha,” you murmured, your voice sounding foreign to your own years.

“Your favourite car?”

“Audi.”

“Are you with me?”

You shook your head, blinking. You turned up to look at him again, your  lower lip shaking. “He knows. He knows, detective. He knows I snitched on his ass. He’s gonna come for me. He’s gonna kill me. I don’t want to die. I’m too young to die,” you muttered, hugging yourself to try and get some blood circulating in your body to feel some warmth. You felt suddenly so cold, so stiff, as you turned back at what was formerly your apartment, it’s state reminding you of your mortality.

Absent- mindedly, you found it vaguely amusing that it took your apartment being trashed, unanimous objects being destroyed to remind you that one day you were going to die, whether it was at another man’s hand or not.

Detective Kylo - could you call him that? - sighed. You looked at his general direction, and your eyes begun moving up and down his body. He hadn’t changed, looking exactly the way he did at the station and earlier on in the day when you’d seen him. He has his blazer back on too.

He turned back to you, and you looked away quickly, embarrassed that he had caught you shamelessly checking him out.

“Katherine,” he said, making you look back at him, counting the moles and birthmarks on his face. “I’m afraid I’ll have to put you on witness protection. It’s obvious that, as you’ve pointed out, Strasson has figured out that you are the one that reported him, and this was obviously an intimidation tactic. He and/or the people he sent after you couldn’t find you, so they trashed your place to leave you a message. You can’t stay here anymore.”

You visibly started trembling, your legs buckling in sheer terror. You held yourself against the wall to steady yourself. Detective Kylo’s face suddenly contorted into concern, his full mouth turning downwards into a frown, his brow furrowed. He wrapped an arm around your waist to support you.

“What’s the matter? Are you alright? You suddenly look very pale,” he observed, lifting your face to face him with his forefinger and thumb on your chin.

“I-”I-,” you swallowed, too shocked and afraid to even speak, trying to salvage what was left of your courage.

“I don’t have anywhere else to go. I don’t want to go to my friend’s places. I don’t want to involve anyone else in this mess. I know Mr. Strasson. He’ll come after me wherever I go. He’s too selfish to consider how other people might be affected,” you whispered, leaning into his arm, slightly enjoying the warmth from it.

“It’s okay. I understand that. You can stay with me for the time being until we find somewhere more appropriate for you. You don’t have to involve anyone else in this,” he reassured you. Was it just you, or did his grip around your waist tighten?

You swallowed. “Are you sure?”

He nodded, before removing his blazer and wrapping it around your shoulders. It felt heavy, but it was comfortably warm, the shoulders drooping off of your own. The sleeves were probably longer than your hands, the hems hanging just below your hips. He gently pushed you into your trashed place.

“Pack up. Get what looks remotely recoverable and let’s go. My squad will check this place out. You don’t need to be here. It’s been a long day for you.”

Well, he wasn’t wrong, you thought as you jumped over smashed glass, probably from your coffee table, walking around your place. What had your life become?

…

It seemed it was going to be an evening of awe for you.

“Holy Shit,” you breathed as you looked around at Dete- Kylo’s apartment, you stuff very much forgotten at the floor of his entrance. (He had requested you just call him by his name without his title).

Or more specifically, top-floor penthouse.

The sitting room was furnished with huge, fluffy-looking leather seats, full set: a three-seater, a two seater and a one-seater. The coffee table  _ alone _ was probably more expensive than your entire kitchen, with its motorbike engine stand and clear glass on top of it. There were poufs between the seats, four in total for each corner, and a massive 55” inch screen on the wall. Under it was a low bench, a Playstation 4, an XBox 360, and a stack of games that probably cost your food bill for about three or so months.  To your left, was his kitchen, all stainless steel with marble tops, very modern and state of the art, with equipment you always wanted but could never afford. (He even had a  _ slow cooker _ !) His kitchen probably cost a full year of your rent.

His dining table, seating six was made of solid wood that would make your father probably weep if he touched it, complete with the chairs, with comfortable cushions on the seats and the back rests. Everything was so subtle, so minimalistic, but so  _ classy  _ and  _ sophisticated,  _ it actually blew you away.

He also had fantastic taste in interior design, you noted.

All this should not have shocked you as much as it should. Back at home, your parents lived relatively well by international standards, but you were so used to living just slightly better than okay, not too extravagant, but happy enough for you (though you could could use some status improvement), that it was just so breathtaking to be living in the luxurious standards your parents had set back home.

“I love your house,” you uttered, still looking around, absolutely enthralled.

“I can quite tell,” he responded, sounding extremely amused.

You turned to him, and your breath hitched. He was leaning against the closed door, his shoulder supporting the rest of him. He had crossed his arms across his chest, one of his long legs crossed in front of the other. Those full lips of his were curved in a lopsided smile, his eyes brightened with something you couldn’t recognise.

Yep, he was definitely, without a doubt, one of the  _ sexiest  _ men you had ever seen, and that was saying quite a bit, considering how picky you were.

You clenched your thighs together, trying to control the liquid heat that had manifested itself in your cunt, formed from the heated lust that had been settling in the pit of your stomach throughout the course of the day.

You looked away, unable to look him in the eye, in case your thirst managed to leak from your brain and out your mouth.

“So, where am I gonna sleep?” You asked, looking everywhere else but at him, refraining yourself from going exploring through the rest of his house.

“In my room,” he responded, nonchalant, as he pushed himself off the wall and walked towards the kitchen. Your heart beat tripled.

“Oh.” You said, willing your mind to think of something more substantial to say. “Where will you sleep then?”

You knew, just  _ knew  _ you shouldn’t have asked that question when he stopped making whatever it was he was making and turned to you, lopsided smile back on his face, but there being  something a lot more wicked in his eyes. “In my room.”

His response was just as indifferent as before, but you could hear something else inflicted just barely under that tone. You swallowed thickly.

“I’m making soup. I doubt you’ve had anything at all to eat this evening. What would you like?” Was he changing the topic? Was your arousal that obvious? Well, the thirst  _ was  _ real, but you thought you kept it a bit more low-key than that. But then again, he  _ is  _ a detective, and it was a skill you were sure he had developed over time to be super observant, so maybe he could see it in your bod-

“Flattered as I am that you find me attractive, extensive internal monologues on whether or not your attraction to me is obvious really won’t answer my question. What would you like to have for dinner?”

You squeaked in mortification. “I-I’ll just have whatever you’re having, thank you,” you said softly, blushing like a 12 year old confronting their crush for the first time. Determined to plough through, you continued. “Do you mind if I go exploring a bit?”

He huffed a laugh. “Not at all. Knock yourself out. Take your stuff and put it in my room. We can organise everything tomorrow.”

Thankful to reduce the chances of you humiliating yourself, you happily skipped around to the rest of his house. The penthouse had four rooms, though one had been converted into an office and the other two were made into spare bedrooms. All of them were excellently furnished, neat and clean with ready made beds. However, it was the master bedroom that had you stupefied.

In the middle of it all was the bed, a massive double king four poster, with an equally huge black comforter, with cushions of varying blacks, whites and greys, with dark grey sheer material over the solid wood of the posts. On one corner, there was an office desk with a mahogany desk and a very comfortable executive chair, of course, black and leather. On it was a laptop, big and heavy. (Upon further investigation you found it to be a gaming laptop. You smiled at that). 

He even had a walk in closet, which was as big as your bedroom. You didn’t want to open all the wardrobes and see how he’s arranged his clothes, because that would be very rude, but you placed your suitcases with all your clothes in one corner, before you padded off to go check out his bathroom.

The bathroom was even more impressive than you thought: all (black) tiles, (clear) glass, (gold) brass and (also black) marble. The shower stall was large enough to fit at least three people, made of clear glass and black tiles. The bathtub, doubling up as a jacuzzi, you were sure could fit a least two people comfortably. The towels next to the shower were so  _ soft  _ and  _ fuzzy  _ you literally purred when feeling them. How did this man live in such  _ luxury?!  _

You went back out to the kitchen, seeing Kylo setting the soup in two huge soup mugs on his dining table. Again, you took a moment to just stare at the man, just  _ admire  _ him, even as he was doing something as domestic and mundane as setting food on the table.

He looked up at you, causing you to blush. You realised you were doing that a lot in his presence. “I was just coming to call you. It’s mushroom soup. Do you want some butter?”

You shook your head no, gratefully taking the mug and the spoon, sitting on the two seater, sinking into it. You moaned slightly. It was so  _ comfortable. _

“Maybe the media  has been lying to me a bit too much, but I don’t think a detective’s salary pays this well,” you mumbled, sipping your soup.

Kylo chuckled, a warm, deep masculine sound. You clenched. “It doesn’t. My brothers and I run a business. We make customised toys both domestically and for export. Apparently the rich all over the world are very picky about the kind of stuff their kids play with. Business so far has been doing well. You should see how my brother Ben lives. Like a fucking royal gigolo, except he pays for his own stuff.”

You snorted. You could relate. Your own brother was truly living it up in Belgium at this moment, when you were here struggling, no job, no house, and indefinitely cohabiting with a sexy detective. You were all for change but this was ridiculous.

You yawned after finishing your soup. You shook your head, and stood up to go wash your cup, but Kylo stopped you. “Go shower and go to bed,” he said, his larger hand pushing yours away. “You’re tired. I’ll deal with this.”

“Thank you,” you responded with a small smile, before putting your mug in the sink and going to the general direction of the bedroom.

…

You didn’t take as long in the shower as you normally did in the evenings: you were, after all, in someone else’s house. You walked in, took your shower, got dressed up and walked out. You loosened the massive bun of braids on your head, feeling so relieved when they fell over your shoulders. You hadn’t had braids in a long time, only having them put in to protect your hair from leaving it open for a while, you’d forgotten how heavy they were. You covered them with your silk headscarf and walked out. 

The sight you were assaulted with when you got to the bedroom nearly made you squeal in salacious glee, but you liked to give yourself more credit, so you disguised your glee into a cough. Either way, that garnered the attention of your host. He was seated cross-legged on that massive bed of his, shirtless, his slacks removed and replaced with a pair of gym pants, black, with two white stripes on the side. There were papers all over the bed and he had a pen and notebook on his lap.

His hair was looking a lot more unruly than when you last saw him, about half an hour ago like he had been running his hand through it constantly, but it was the rest of him that had your mouth going dry. Even through his clothes you could tell he was a big bloke, nothing, but lean, defined muscle. You had  _ felt  _ it whenever he embraced you. 

However, feeling through clothes and actually seeing it with your own two eyes was an entirely different experience altogether. His skin was pale, smooth, with occasional freckles. He had an intricate tribal half-sleeve tattoo on his left arm, covering the entirety of his bicep. His torso looked like it had been sculpted by Adonis himself. Describing him as  _ glorious  _ would not be doing him any justice.

Somewhere at the back of your mind, as you struggled to remove your tongue from the roof of your mouth, you wondered whether his thighs were as muscular as the rest of him.

“Nice tattoo,” you managed, internally wincing but also grateful you hadn’t said something infinitely stupid like ‘oh my God you’re so stacked’ or some other dumbassery.

He smirked at you this time, a lot more wicked, mischievous,  _ erotic _ that his usual lopsided smiles. 

“Thank you. It’s a product of bad influence from my brothers.”

You wanted to ask him if you could touch it, but you were scared you’d mention other parts of his anatomy you’d much prefer to touch instead, so you kept quiet. To keep your very inappropriate thoughts at the back of your mind where they belong, you decided to engage him in a conversation.

“Tell me about your brothers.”

“One’s an emergency medic and the other’s a firefighter. We’re triplets. They can be annoying most times,  _ especially  _ the firefighter, but they’re my brothers and I love them. They have been there for me through the worst and best times of my life thus far. They are extremely loyal, perhaps to a fault and I know they’d be there for me anytime I needed them.”

“They sound really cool.”

He shrugged, his massive, broad shoulders moving up and down a lot faster than you gave them credit for. “They’re alright.”

He seemed to have given up on his work, as he pushed all his paperwork on one side of the bed, before gathering them all in one somewhat organised pile.

“Tell me about your siblings.”

“We’re four, all of us away from home. One a pilot, an accountant and economist and me. Everyone else seems to be doing really well and super successful, except me. It took me a year to find this job, to keep me going until I’ve found something more attuned to my skillset, but now I’m back to square one, no job, no house, no income.”

You didn’t want to sound as miserable as you did, but you realised you sounded more irritated than sad.

He looked at you, something akin to sympathy in his eyes.

“Hey, look, you didn’t ask to be put in this situation, okay? Are you a resident?”

You nodded.

“Then you’ll be fine. I promise you, you’re going to be okay. You just need to lay low for now until we sort this Strasson bullshit out. I’m sure you’ve got a good education and a great skillset. I’ll help you through this.”

Nothing in any of the languages you were literate in could ever express the gratitude you felt towards him, so you just nodded, trying to keep the tears in your eyes.

He nodded towards the fluffy pillows on your side of the bed. “Sleep.”

You crawled towards the headboard, before maneuvering yourself into the sheets and comforter. The sheets were so soft, too soft for your normal run-of-the-mill sheets. These were probably those 1000 thread Egyptian cotton type sheets.

Within moments, you begun falling asleep, but before you fully did, you felt shuffling behind you, then a warm, hard body slipped into bed behind you, pulling your back flush against a broad, muscular chest, powerful arm wrapped around your waist, long legs tangled together with yours.

Sleeping with Adonis was definitely a change you could get used to.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bad manners begins here.

It had been about a fortnight after you found your apartment looking like a landfill and Kylo offered you to stay at his place until you got your act together, or apparently, until he was sure you were safe from your ex-boss and was hopefully off witness protection. So far, things weren’t looking too bad. You were trying to move on, and things were coming together, albeit very slowly. 

Kylo had allowed you to play some games on his laptop, and you found out it was way better than your shitty laptop. The graphics were brighter and clearer than your future, and the sound effects were almost magical. It got to a point where you literally had to hide it from yourself if you were intending to do anything productive during the day, something Kylo found hilarious.

You had enrolled yourself in the gym in Kylo’s complex, a service that was offered to all residents, and with his encouragement, you were looking for small part-time jobs, something to keep your mind busy and from not focusing too much on your current situation. It was a good thing as well because you could get some income from it too. Despite Kylo’s constant reassurances, you felt bad, living in house, eating his food and using his utilities and not contributing to their payment. You felt like a real freeloader, and your parents raised you better.

He had even shown you his motorbike, a Kawasaki Ninja 300 ABS, an extremely sexy piece of engineering. It was all black, and the first time you saw it all you did was ogle it, and gently touch it like it was made of glass.

“It’s okay,” he had said, the mirth very evident in his voice. “It’s not made of glass. You can actually sit on it. You can even take it for a ride if you want.”

_ Your dick is what I want to take for a ride, kind sir,  _ you thought in your head, before blushing furiously and shaking your head. Those kinds of thoughts would only be allowed when he wasn’t there to guess them.

“Do you ever go to work with it?” you enquired, after you had your thoughts and your genitals in sensible, non-inappropriate order and curiously looking at all the gadgets on the dashboard so that your facial expressions would not betray you.

“Fridays and Saturdays usually.”

Later that day you couldn’t help an indulgent phone call to Angela, one of your first friends when you came over from your country. She laughed when you told her you’d found the two things you’d love to ride before you died, and laughed even louder, definitely scandalised when you sent her a picture of the two aforementioned things.

“You didn’t tell me one of them was a man, the  _ actual detective of your case, _ no less,” she asked, giddy.

“Well, knowing me, I thought that went without saying.”

“True. I  _ should  _ have known better.” Her tone became quieter. “I’m glad to see you’re trying to move on after...you know...everything.”

You found yourself smiling softly at that. Angela was your literal mum friend, and she was one of the first people to literally come zooming to Kylo after you’d informed her of everything that had happened. 

“Kylo’s been too good to me, honestly. I don’t think I’d have progressed as much if it wasn’t for his help, to be frank.”

“Well, please do inform me whether his ass is as marvellous to the touch as it looks once you fuck him,” she quipped, back to her old, enthusiastic self.

“Oh, definitely,” you responded, your cunt rapidly moistening and the lecherous thoughts returning full force in your mind. It would honestly be a travesty to be living in Adonis’ house and not have some of him.

…

It had been another day of looking for short-term work, just something to keep you busy while Kylo was at the station. So far you had come up with about three opportunities, but generally the day was spent cleaning and lazing about. You had tried to go to the gym, but you did some laps in the pool instead. It was better than nothing, you convinced yourself.

Kylo got home at eight that evening, relatively later than he normally did. He looked exhausted.

“Excuse my bluntness, but you look absolutely terrible,” you said, getting up and forcefully tugging, with some effort, the files and paperwork under his arm.

He looked at you, those full lips you wanted to kiss tugged downwards in a frown. You softened. “It’s been a long day. Strasson’s crimes aren’t limited to money laundering apparently. It goes into deep, international illegal territory.”

You paused, turning slowly to him, swallowing your apprehension.

“How deep?”

Kylo sighed, so deeply you could literally hear his fatigue in the sound.

“Drug dealing, human trafficking and sex slavery.”

You looked away from him, your lips trembling. You took in a deep breath.

“I...never knew it was that bad.” You couldn’t keep the tremble out of your voice, the tremble that betrayed your concern for him.

He shrugged. “I’ve investigated this kinda stuff before. I know what it’s like. Nothing I can’t really handle. It just means that this is going to take years to get to the bottom of. Even then, your information  _ did  _ help, and it gave us a couple of months’ head start, and on behalf of my squad we all really appreciate it.”

You blushed, particularly at the end where his voice dipped to a lower register. “Thank you.”

You swallowed again, this time  _ not  _ in apprehension.

“If you want I can make you some tea and give you a massage. It’ll help with the tension and will make you sleep much better.”

Maybe it was just you, but there was  _ something  _ in his gaze after you offered the massage. It was intense, and you felt your stomach flip over about three times when his lips suddenly curved into a sharp, scheming smirk.

“Yeah,” he agreed, his voice lower, huskier, his head tilted slightly upwards. “A massage would be nice. I’ll go have a shower first.”

What were you walking into? Seems you were about to find out.

…

You were preparing the lavender oil you had that you would use to massage Kylo, lightly warming it so that it would be ready when he came out of the shower. You had even changed to a simple tank and gym shorts and ankle socks, to ensure attire wouldn’t get in the way and fussing over the oil so that it doesn’t get too hot.

As you were taking the oil off the heat provided by the candle, Kylo got out of the shower. You turned to look at him, and immediately asked yourself  _ why  _ you had offered to give the massage. He had nothing other than a pair of black boxers on, which did a sensational job of showing off his thick, muscular legs,  _ especially  _ his thighs. 

Well, than answered your question of whether his legs were as muscular as the rest of his body. Whatever his gym regimen was it was working very well.

In an act of the ultimate betrayal, your eyes trailed down his body: broad shoulders, muscular chest, subtle abs, and that dark trail of hair that went from his navel down into those boxers. You gasped sharply, gritting your teeth when you noticed his apollo’s belt, just as subtle and as developed as his abs are, also going down into his boxers, erupting a slew of thoughts in your mind that could only be found in a porn script.

His entire head was covered with a towel, as he rubbed it all over, drying his hair. When you saw him pull it off, you quickly looked away, closing your eyes and swallowing thickly, trying to get your arousal in order, push it back in the dark recesses of your mind where it belonged.

“You’ve really prepared, huh?”

His voice sounded dark, sinful, like melted chocolate. It was going to be a long night.

You shrugged. “Least I could do,” you responded, mentally congratulating yourself for keeping you voice steady. You moved a little out of the way. “Lie on your stomach. I’ll start with your back, then if you’re not snoring by the time I’m done, you’ll turn over then I’ll do your chest and abdomen.”

Kylo flopped on the bed, literally fell on it, making it bounce a little bit, and he moaned in relief. You giggled slightly, as you waited for the bed to be stationary again, before you climbed up onto the bed, and subsequently onto him, sitting on his bum.

“I hope you don’t mind,” you muttered, your own voice a little hoarse. This man had such excellent muscular development that even his ass was all hard and firm. 

“Not at all,” came the muffled response from the pillows. You took a deep breath before leaning forward, placing your palm on his lower back to balance yourself and you reached for the oil. When you sat back up you saw that he was facing the wall, eyes closed, hair splayed over the pillow, his arms to his side, next to your legs, where you’d folded them as you sat on his bum, literally straddling him.

You poured some of the oil on his back and begun the massage. You decided to start from his shoulders and move downwards to his lower back, then tell him to turn around. His sheets would be soaking with lavender by the time you’d be done, which was nice because you were sleeping in them too and you quite liked lavender.

Kylo was very tense, and you felt many knots, especially around his shoulders and just below his neck. The fact that he was so muscular wasn’t helping much, as it meant that you had to use a lot of force. He, however, didn’t seem to have a problem with that at all, if his occasional low moans were anything to go by. You noticed they were lower, longer and deeper when you massaged around his shoulder blades and just at the nape of his neck, and they were much more subtle when you massaged around the middle.

Many a time, you had to stop for a bit yourself to take a few deep breaths, disguising it with adding more oil onto his smooth, pale skin. His body felt  _ marvellous  _ to the touch, and more than once your hands not-so-innocently roamed over him, just enjoying the feel of his muscles beneath your palms. In fact you had decided that you were going to drag this out as long as objectively possible, just so that you could touch him some more.

You passed your hands over his back one more time, and you heard him muffle a curse, then he moaned again. For some reason the sounds he was emitting were making you feel things, very inappropriate things. You shifted slightly on his bum, feeling yourself clench slightly. Your hands still on his back, you leaned forward slightly.

“You like that?” you asked him quietly. “That feel good?”

His response was another groan and another muffled curse. You smiled slightly, and decided to continue. Those responses, as at the recent past had been positive and you saw no reason why they wouldn’t mean the same now.

You slowly moved your hands over the entirety of his back, in the guise of ‘spreading the oil’ when he started shifting, as if he wanted to get off. You squeaked a bit, before lifting yourself off his bum, so that he could get up, but faster than you could respond, he wrapped an arm around you, lifting one long leg over you and effectively flipping both of you over, so that you were on the bed, lying on your back, and he was on top of you, just barely holding himself over you. Your squeal was louder this time, when you automatically reached out for him, wrapping one of your arms around his neck, the other clutching his arm, as you bounced on the bed.

Your eyes were closed during this whole fracas, and when you opened them his face was centimetres away from yours, that sharp, wicked smirk on his lips, his brown eyes a darker, richer shade than they normally were. You closed your eyes again, and swallowed, feeling that tell-tale heat forming at the pit of your stomach. You opened your mouth to say something,  _ anything,  _ but apparently speech was out of your current capabilities.

You felt his hand your chin, holding it with his thumb and forefinger. “God I’ve wanted you for a while. I just haven’t been able to figure out how to have you until now. Do you know how sexy you look with that top and those tiny shorts of yours? Do you know how tempting it was to rip them off and fuck you against my wall?”

You whimpered, trying (and failing) to pull him closer towards you, your hand on his bicep tightening. Since pulling him to you wasn’t working, you took the initiative and pulled yourself onto him instead, crashing your lips into his and rolling your hips against his own. He moaned into your mouth, and you shyly pushed your tongue into his mouth, sighing deeply yourself at feeling that hot, hard, bulge in his boxers. Your hand, still slightly oily from the lavender oil you were massaging into his back earlier, begun to explore, leaving his bicep and running it over his shoulder, to his chest, to his abdomen.

Kylo pushed you down onto the bed, his lips not leaving yours, as he tugged up yout top, only breaking the kiss to pull your tank off your head. He spared you a glance, your lips probably swollen from his kiss, your braids splayed all over his pillows, before he descended on you again, latching his mouth on your jawline, kissing his way down your neck. One hand curled behind you, removing the clasp of your bra, immediately ripping it off your body. He leaned upwards again, just to look at you, running a large hand over your breasts. You blushed, biting your lower lip and turning your head to the side so as not to look at him.

“You’re beautiful,” he muttered, before hooking his thumbs on the waistband of your shorts, taking them off, together with your panties. 

“Wait, you too,” you muttered, as you pulled his boxers off. He was polite enough to kick them off his legs. He lifted your legs to his waist, before he bent down again, burying his face in your shoulder, his finger tracing your folds, feeling how wet they are. You mewled, then shuddered, when he slipped his index finger until the first knuckle.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he murmured, slowly pulling out and pushing in again. You breathed out slowly, feeling slightly uncomfortable, but nothing too serious. Kylo noticed this and slowly pulled out his finger.

“No,” you wept, moving with his finger, but he managed to pull it out anyway. 

“Have you ever slept with a man before?” he asked you gently, his forefinger and thumb on your chin so that you could look at him. You nodded.

“Only once though. Some time in high school. We were both awkward virgins and had no idea what the fuck was happening, but it was kinda...nice.”

He huffed out a laugh, lowering himself to you again, slipping his finger back inside you. Completely not expecting it, you gasped, subconsciously tightening around his digit. Slowly he pumped it in and out a few times, then added a second one, repeating the motion. You started to feel a pleasurable feeling, and it was spreading throughout your body from your cunt like electricity across copper cables. Kylo wrapped his arm around you again, lifting you towards him, forcing you to wrap your arms around his neck to balance yourself. You felt his cock on your thigh, long, hard and thick, the tip slightly damp.

“That dude you slept with, did he know how much of a  _ fucking slut _ you’d end up being? Look at you, right now, moving your cunt in rhythm with my fingers, dripping wet all over my hand. What are you, a semi-virgin whore? For someone who doesn’t fuck much you sure know what do, how to react. I don’t even have to say anything before I feel this tight little pussy of yours clench around my fingers, desperate for my dick to split you into two. You want me to take you hard, fill you up with so much of my cum and have you screaming my name all night like the desperate little whore you are.”

Right on cue, you felt yourself clench around him, the earlier pressure at the pit of your belly getting tighter and tighter. You moaned, feeling him build up on your orgasm, bringing you closer to release, and your body was getting ready for it.

“Please,” you begged, not even sure what you were begging for, pushing yourself further into his body. He yanked his fingers out of you and you sobbed, regretting the lack of contact. He brought his fingers up to your mouth. 

“Open. Clean up.”

It wasn’t a request, it was an order, a  _ command,  _ and you swallowed. You opened your mouth and took his long thick fingers into your mouth, tasting yourself. You were still sucking on them, before you felt something hot and thick in your folds, slowly pressuring to enter, stretching open.

“Relax,” Kylo purred in your ear, his thumb making small circles on your waist. “Let me-fuuuuuck,” he moaned, as he slipped inside you with one, smooth stroke. For a moment both of you paused. He was  _ massive _ , filling you completely, your walls struggling to clench and stretch around him. He was panting erratically in your shoulder. You clenched your teeth, then gasped. It felt  _ so good  _ to have him sheathed so completely in you like this.

“Give me a moment,” he said, shifting slightly above you.  Slowly, he pulled out, until the tip, before slamming back in. You screamed in absolute pleasure, the slight sting making your entire body shake under him. You felt him smirk in your neck, before he set a rhythm, fucking you hard and deep. At this point every and all forms of cognitive ability had disappeared, the only thing your brain recognised was Kylo above you, inside you,  _ all over  _ you. He overwhelmed you, and you  _ loved  _ every second of it. The only sounds you could register yourself making was his name falling from your lips as he pounded into you.

“You like that?” He growled in your ear, repeating the words you asked him before, in a much more  _ carnal  _ context. “That feel good?”

The last question was made with a rough, hard thrust and all you could manage was to cry in pleasure. 

“Yes, oh God  _ yes,”  _ you moaned, loving every second of this rough treatment. You never  thought rough sex would be your thing, but here you were. You felt his hand move between your bodies, dipping into your fold and finding your clit, pressing it in turn with his thrusts. Your body felt like it was going to explode. 

“Cum for me,” he hummed in your ear, and with a final thrust it happened. Your body arched into his, as you felt blinding white light behind your eyelids, pleasure shooting all over body like electric shocks as your orgasm hit you. You clamped hard around his cock, milking him for his seed, spasming around him. Suddenly he growled, a low, animalistic, sexy sound, before he came, spilling his hot seed into you, his hips twitching erratically over you. He came so hard and so much, you felt his body tremble above you, supporting himself on his bed with his arm that wasn’t around you.

You felt his cum trickling out of you, going down your thighs.

“That...was the best orgasm I’ve ever heard in my life,” he whispered, kissing your neck gently. “Thank you.”

With what felt like his last bit of strength, he flipped you both around again, so that he landed on the bed on his back, with you sprawled over him. You were exhausted, and it wasn’t long before you succumbed to sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

You woke up the next morning with the sound of something  buzzing on the bedside table. Was that a phone? If it was, whose was it? Did you put your phone on silent last night?

The buzzing never stopped, and you wanted to open your eyes and remove your arm from the covers and throw it across the room to shut it up, but you were engulfed in such warmth, feeling crisp, smooth sheets on your skin and your limbs tangled up next to a warmer, larger, more muscular body. Kylo, the owner of the aforementioned body had one arm wrapped over your waist, holding you close to him, the other one folded under his head, which was comfortably above yours.

You breathed out loudly through your nose, snuggling your face closer into Kylo’s chest. You stretched your arms, subsequently wrapping them around his neck. He responded by tightening his arm around you, shifting slightly against you.

The goddamned buzzing continued. You cracked open an eye, definitely irritated. “What the fuck is that?” you grumbled, the sound sounding even more muffled in Kylo’s chest. “Can you switch it off? It’s annoying. I wanna sleep. What time is it?”

You tried moving your legs and you winced. Not only because they were tangled in Kylo’s, but also because you were  _ hella  _ sore.

“Sorry,” Kylo mumbled. “That’s my phone. I think it someone from the station wondering why I’m not there yet.” He removed his arm from under his head and stretched behind him to take his phone. He stared blearily at it, making a variety of facial expressions, none of them expressing amusement, before putting it on his ear.

“Hello?” he growled. Your lips quirked. For someone who was always up and out of the house by eight in the morning, he didn’t seem to be behaving like a morning person. He sighed, before frowning.

“Fine. We’ll be there sometime in the afternoon.” Pause. “I don’t know, but we’ll turn up. After sorting all that shit out we’re coming right back. You guys continue working until it’s time for you to leave.”

There was another pause, before you saw Kylo roll his eyes. You could have giggled, but it was still morning and you hadn’t entirely woken up yet. “Well, now you know. Out of all of you I haven’t taken a day off for three months. I’m the first one in and last one out, especially since we started dealing with Strasson. Let me be.”

He hung up before carelessly throwing his (rather expensive) phone back on the bedside drawer, then turning around and pulling you flush into his body again, burying his face into your neck.

“We got some hours. Go back to sleep,” he mumbled, the low timbre of his voice making your body shudder deliciously.

“Who was that?”

“Mitaka.”

“What was he telling you?”

He sighed again. Maybe he really didn’t want to talk about it.

“I don’t want to talk about it  _ now.  _ Can we just...can I tell you about it all later?”

You nodded, then promptly remembering that he couldn’t see you and verbally responded in the affirmative, running your hands through his hair, massaging his scalp and enjoying the feel of his silky locs in your hands. The man had better hair than most women you knew. You were slightly jealous. Despite the amounts of hair product in his bathroom,  you doubted he spent as much time, effort and money on his mane to have it looking and feeling the way it did. He never had to deal with protective styles or constantly moisturising his hair or keeping it well oiled without overdoing it.

“Or actually,” he said, his mouth curving into a smirk on your skin, his voice sounding very mischievous. “I can think of a much better, much more  _ fun  _ way for us to spend in bed this morning.”

You swallowed thickly. “Yeah?”

He didn’t reply, simply flipped you over, so that you were lying on your back, with him leaning just on top of you, that knowing, sharp smirk back on his lips. He buried his face in your neck, kissing you slowly from your jaw line, down until your shoulder, where he bit, sinking his teeth enough to sting slightly without breaking skin.

You yelped, arching up into him,  _ clearly  _ enjoying it as he passed his tongue over where he bit to soothe the skin there.

“I love the contrasts between your skin and mine: the deep, rich chocolate to my paleness, the smooth to the rough, it’s amazing,” he whispered in your ear, before passing his tongue over the length of your neck. You trembled, both at his words and at his actions, your brain yet to rediscover the wonders of coherent speech, or coherent anything, really.

He ran his hands gently down your sides, no doubt to relax you and he stopped them at your hips. His mouth followed downwards, kissing his way past your chest, your breasts (you choked and then mewled when he took one of your nipples in his mouth for  a bit before letting go with a pop and continuing his way down).

He continued going lower, past your navel, before you realised what more  _ fun  _ ways he was talking about earlier. You literally squeaked like a mouse when his grip on your hips tightened slightly and his nose grazed the very top of your vagina, and you fidgeted a little, more than slightly nervous. 

“Quiet, little one, and let me taste what I own.”

You couldn’t help it, you literally moaned at that. It wasn’t even remotely vulgar, but just the  _ commanding  _ tone in his voice when he said it what had you rapidly moistening. You managed to settle down on the bed, clutching the sheets like a lifeline, directing the tension from the rest of your body to your hands.

Suddenly, you felt it, his tongue as it parted your vaginal lips and his nose grazed your clit. You closed your eyes and clenched your teeth, the pleasure much more than you anticipated. He took his time, running his tongue up and down in slow firm strokes, occasionally changing the direction and the pressure, absolutely ring you  _ insane  _ because of how unpredictable he was being.

You’d heard all about getting head from men, how amazing and literally jaw-dropping it was. All those descriptions and sighs and declarations could never,  _ ever  _ even hold a spark to the real thing. You couldn’t believe this was what you were missing out on. Kylo was literally eating you out, like he would an ice cream cone, and you felt like you were in heaven, if heaven was an actual place.

He moved his mouth to your clit, pulling it gently between his lips and sucking on it like it was the only water source in a desert. The pleasure was instantaneous, shooting all over your body, so intense that you literally lost your voice. Your hands immediately moved to that silky hair of his, fisting it and you bucked your hips in his face. In response he licked it with his tongue, over it, around it,  _ everywhere  _ as he gently moved his hands from your hips down to your thighs. You closed your eyes, feeling them tearing, the pleasure that intense.

You weren’t expecting it, neither could you feel it at first, but just when he’d dove back into your pussy your orgasm hit you like an electric shock. You opened your mouth to scream but no sound came out as your back arched upwards, your hips so far up in his face you wondered, somewhere in the recesses of your pleasure-addled mind whether you were suffocating him. He never stopped however, even as you went through your orgasm, your whole body trembling, Still he licked and sucked and lapped you up all the way through it, until you were spent and limp on his bed, panting and thoroughly pleasured.

As you were still regulating your breathing, coming down from your high, Kylo pulled himself back up over you, capturing your lips with his own in a passionate kiss. You returned it, just as passionately, actually enjoying your own taste on his lips and his tongue.

“You seem to have thoroughly enjoyed yourself,” he murmured when he broke off, much yo your disappointment.

You blushed, chewing on your lower lip. “Thank you,” you responded.

“I noticed you were a little sore there. From my experience, head normally helps, if only a little bit.”

You giggled. “It did, yes.”

He lay back on his side, pulling you against him again.

“Let’s take a nap. We can go to the station later.”

Well, you saw nothing wrong with that particular plan.

…

Kylo woke you up about three hours later, and dragged you into the shower with him. “We’ll both be saving water if we shower together,” he’d told you, as he wrapped your braids over your head and fitted your shower cap over them. Well, he did have a point, but you weren’t quite sure that you’d both be doing any showering, quite frankly.

He, however, managed to prove you wrong. The only indulgence he allowed you was to wash his hair (it felt even better when wet), but he managed to scrub himself, requesting you tso scrub his back for him, before doing the same for you. You both got out, dried up, dressed up, had a quick breakfast (he made the french toast and you made the coffee. You never trusted anyone with your coffee except the Ethiopian dude who owned the coffee shop a block away from your former place.)

All in all, it took you about an hour to get to the station. On the way there, Kylo told you about his phone call from Mitaka that morning. 

“My squad got a hold of some of the suspects that were working with Strasson, your ex-boss,” he paused, making a face. “Not exactly working  _ with  _ him, more like working  _ under  _ one of the guys that was working with him. Of course, it would be easier to just find their boss, but he was conveniently found with half his head blown the fuck off, so he’s obviously not going to tell us anything. I strongly suspect Strasson most likely hired a hit man to shut him up, because from the little investigation I’ve done that guy was denser than mercury. Hopefully you can identify them then I can get them to talk a bit. God knows we need the information. Even off jurisdiction your ex-boss is just about as pleasant as a cockroach.”

You didn’t know whether to be amused, angry or scared, so you settled for indifference.

When you got to the station, most of the officers in there really didn't pay attention to you, which you were more than fine with. There were three female desk personnel who looked at you like you were a walking STI, but you got a polite hello and a loud, exuberant one from both Lieutenant Mitaka and Katarina respectively. You returned their greetings in kind.

Kylo led you to his office and told you to have a seat and that some tea would be brought to you soon. He was just going to find out details of what was happening and make arrangements for you to view the suspects.

You sat on his desk, sipping your tea, before Katarina came in, a very sadistic grin on her face, and asked you to follow her to the interrogations room

You walked in with her, and it looked like everything in those shows you used to watch. There was a room where Kylo, Mitaka, Katarina and a bunch of other investigators stood, looking into the interrogations room grimly. In the interrogations room stood three blokes and a lady. They were all faces you were very familiar with, as they were regulars at your former office on more Fridays than you could care to remember. The dudes, as usual looked huge, easily over six feet tall, two of them even seemed to be Kylo’s height, and Kylo was 6 foot 5. The lady was tiny, shorter than even you. She looked like a midget standing next to these guys.

“Any of them look recognisable to you, Katherine?” Kylo asked you, leaning against a desk, his hands holding onto it, in a deceptively relaxed stance. Even his voice was that indifferent semi-drawl of his, sounding bored out of his eyeballs.

However, after having lived with Kylo for a little bit now, you knew better. He was  _ not  _ amused. At all. You could tell from the tension of his shoulders, the way he tapped his foot against the other, and the way he gripped the table. You also noticed that he had removed his blazer, dress shirt sleeves folded to his elbows as usual. He looked like he was about to deck a bitch.

You turned back to the people in the interrogation room. You knew the drill. This was a one-sided mirror: you could see them, but they couldn’t see you. They probably doubted they even knew you were there.

You felt such a sense of deja vu, it was almost funny.

“Yeah,” you responded. “From right to left: Cindy, Marshall, Dennis and Eric. Cindy is the brains. She’s normally the one that dealt with the paperwork and the money. Eric and Dennis are the muscle men and Marshall was the logistics guy. If you want to get anything constructive out of them talk to Cindy. She’s a manipulative little bitch though, and she can very easily manipulate you and your words, twisting them to make herself the victim and crying to pull some damsel in distress shit on you. Eric is the greediest motherfucker ever. I can bet you right now he’ll sell all the others out in a blink of an eye if it means he gets off scot free. Marshall and Dennis are colossal bullies. They rely on their sizes and voices to intimidate people, and they are normally confused when people don’t act terrified of them at first instance.”

One of the investigators looked at you. “How often did you have to interact with these people?” he asked, sounding impressed.

“A lot more than I should have. At least every single Friday, which is why five percent of my measly salary went to the bar, because I needed several stiff, stinging drinks after dealing with them.”

“I applaud you patience.”

“I do try, thank you.”

It was silent, before Kylo sighed, schooling his face into blank indifference. “Put on the mics. Record every single fucking thing,” he ordered, undertones of cold steel in his smooth voice as he stood up and walked into the interrogations room. He slammed the door shut when he got in, pocketing before he looked up at his prisoners. He zeroed in his gaze to Cindy, catching her gaze and holding it, before he smirked, slowly, deliberately at her. Her face bloomed so red she looked like a ketchup bottle, and you suddenly had a feeling she’d be parroting everything out about their operations not long from now.

Either that, or she’d end up in tears. Either way, she was going to be losing.

“Hello there, sweetheart,” he begun, his voice slow, smooth. Eric gulped, and all the other detectives were tense. Kylo wasn’t messing about. His voice made it  _ very clear.  _ He was going to get what he wanted from them,  _ no matter what the cost.  _ Was Marshal trembling?

“It’s not going to be a good day for them, is it?” you asked, sipping your tea, smiling sweetly at Dennis’ look of sheer terror, communicating with his eyes to get him the ever living hell out of there. He couldn’t see you, but the pettiness of knowing they were going to suffer after all the shit they put you through during their visits was enough to make already good mood better.

“Nope.”

You don’t know who responded, and neither did you care.

“Well then, it’s time I took my leave. Tea was much better brewed this time, by the way.” As you were walking out, you wondered whether Kylo would allow you to fuck his temper out of him later?

Karma is a bitch.

 


	5. Chapter 5

The ripples in your coffee cup you had been staring at had still not given you the answers you were seeking.

You grabbed the cup and took a sip. It was tepid now, the bitterness more disgusting than sharp, but you swallowed anyway. You moved your gaze from the coffee to the large, flat-screen television in front of you, staring at its black blankness. You sighed. You had been having a lot on your mind lately, you had researched endlessly on the internet. You even had bought some items of practice to use, to put all the theories you had come across to the test. However, you still weren’t sure if you could get the skills you needed in time.

How in the world do you suck dick properly?

You stood up, wincing slightly at your knees hurting from having sat cross-legged for a long time, and walked towards the freezer. You opened it and saw the box of supermarket-branded popsicles in there, popsicles you had bought for  _ practice. _ What you were practicing you still weren’t too sure. You guessed it would make sense to hit google soon again.

You remembered your conversation with Kylo the previous day when he had opened the freezer for some ice to have with his scotch and he commented about the box of popsicles. It was one of the times you had thanked Black Jesus in your head multiple times for your skin colour, because you remembered blushing so hard you were scared your face would fall off from the heat it was emitting. You were sure if you were any lighter you’d probably be looking like a ketchup bottle. You managed to mumble something about a sweet tooth and wanting to re-live your childhood, but there was something about his smirk that made you realise he may or may not have known why you had bought so many of them. After all, they were of a very particular  _ shape,  _ and Kylo had pointed this out, which prompted you to suddenly want to go take a shower.

He probably knew, didn’t he? Oh gosh he  _ definitely  _ knew.  You head fell into your hands, your humiliation rearing its ugly head again. How was it that only  _ you  _ found yourself in these kinds of situations?! Well, you thought, seems like it’s time to call Angela again.

She picked up on the second ring. “Hey,” she greeted brightly.

“You seem really shipper today. You not at work?”

“Nope. I took the day off. I just wanted to chill out. I haven’t had an off day since the beginning of the year,” she responded, seemingly munching on something.

“What are you eating?” you asked, hoping you were being a bit subtle, delaying the inevitable conversation.

“Apple. Have you fucked your detective yet?”

Goddammit.

You said nothing, drumming your fingers on his expensive and tasteful coffee table, leaving fingerprints on the glass.

“You enjoyed yourself, didn’t you? He seems like he’s an animal in bed. You’re so lucky, because quite honestly I would ride his dick for a week straight.”

You wanted to tell her to stop, to call her out on her vulgarity, but it would be very hypocritical of you, so you remained silent for a few moments. Who wouldn’t want to ride his dick for a week straight?

“Oi, Angie, I have a question.”

“As long as it has to do with you doing the badonkadonk with Mr sexy detective, ask away.”

You blushed, gritting your teeth. You  _ knew  _ this was gonna be a bad idea, but Angela was the one who would be honest with you and wouldn’t mince her words.

“How…” you sighed, absolutely not knowing how to ask the question. “How do you-”

Angela sounded concerned when she next spoke. “Kate, are you okay? What’s up?”

“I want to ask you something, but I donno how to do it.”

“Just ask it. Be blunt.”

“How do you suck dick?”

The other end of the line was dead silent. You chewed on your lower lip, nervous, not knowing how she would react. This was  _ not  _ how you were expecting this conversation to go. You actually wanted Angie to say something,  _ anything.  _ At least then you had something to work with. Silence really wasn’t her style.

Suddenly, she burst out laughing. It was long and deep, and if you could see her she probably had tears streaming down her face at this point.

“What’s so funny?” you mumbled, very embarrassed by this whole conversation.

“Oh my God you’re adorable. You’re here discussing in great detail how I fit dick in my mouth but when it comes time for  _ you _ to actually do it you can’t?” She was wheezing at this point, barely able to breathe because of how much she was laughing.

“He’s a big boy, plus I bought popsicles to practice. I just wanna know if I’m doing the right thing.” You were fiddling with the hem of your shirt, acting like a pre-teen confronting their crush for the first time. Was this real life?

“A big boy, huh?” You could literally see her  _ snickering,  _ the bitch. “Go get your popsicles and hit me up on Skype. As you said you wanna surprise him. Generally dudes love head, but I suppose it’ll be nicer for him if it seems like you know what you’re doing. Also, I want great detail on how good that dicking went. You’re blushing so hard when I bring him up I’m surprised your body heat hasn’t melted my phone yet.”

It was gonna be a long afternoon. Enjoyable, but long.

…

After some more goofing off with Angela on Skype, you then decided to be more constructive and continued on your quest for looking for a job. It had been about a month and a half now, and you were beginning to get disillusioned, since all you were doing was sitting at home and doing housewife duties. Generally you didn’t mind too much: Kylo was never obligated to take you in, though technically you weren’t supposed to be staying with him per se because you were on witness protection, but he did. He took you in, gave you somewhere to stay when you had nowhere else and you was not making you pay for expenses. The least you could do was the chores.

By evening, you had scored yourself an interview, and you felt that things started looking bright. This was not the first interview you had gotten, but it was the first one with a job that seemed to have a skillset suited to what you had. You were happily shutting down your computer, when you felt the front door open. Kylo was probably back home.You sighed, thinking you had to hold back on oiling your scalp, which you had been planning on doing for the past couple of hours. Oh well, there was always tomorrow.

He walked into the kitchen, slamming his folder (slightly smaller today) on the island, before removing his jacket and placing it on the back of one of the stools and sliding onto it. He run his hands down his face, then up and through his hair. He sighed.

“Difficult day at work?” you asked, handing him a glass of juice.

“Thank you,” he smiled, taking it and gulping half of it all at once. You could have chided him, but you let it pass. Poor man looked really frustrated. “I was following up on what we’ve been getting from the interrogations. This shit is deep, but we’re working on untangling it and getting to the bottom of it all.”

You raised an eyebrow. “They spilled everything?”

Kylo looked at you, eyebrow raised as well, lopsided smile in place. When he was certain that your expression of pure disbelief was never leaving your face, his schooled his features into smooth neutrality, his body language more relaxed as he sipped from his glass. You swallowed.

“Not exactly  _ everything,  _ just what I needed from them. I’m a very good interrogator, as I’m sure you’ve heard.”

His voice had taken on that  _ tone _ , the one that he had when you offered to massage him the very first time all those days ago, where he flipped you over and fucked you sore. It still did things to you, making you tingle in your lady bits.

“I’m not doubting your skills. I’m doubting that they managed to tell you all what you wanted to hear in such a short time frame. Those guys are quite...difficult, so it comes as a surprise that you made them talk so soon. I was expecting it to take you slightly longer to get anything out of them.” Your voice was low, but strong. You  _ refused  _ to be timid towards him. You looked up at him, and the warm pooling of lust that had been manifesting in the pit of your belly dropped straight into your cunt.

He pushed himself off the kitchen island, his gait slow and predatory, headed right towards you. You swallowed, but refused to move, crossing your arms under bust and looking right up at him, as he towered over you as he came closer. He stopped when he got right in front of you, his lopsided smile suddenly switching into that scheming smirk of his, cruel and sharp. You breath hitched when you saw it, your arousal increasing. It always amazed you how his smiles could suddenly change, like a switchblade. 

It  _ aroused _ you.

He got to you and untangled your hands, placing the left one on his broad shoulder and the other one on his massive chest. One of his own arms wrapped around your waist pulling you towards him, his other one squeezing your left boob gently. You yelped, as he buried his face in your neck. He placed a hot, open-mouthed kiss there, making your yelp simmer down to a gasp, your hand on his chest fisting onto his shirt, bending your neck at an angle to give more room to explore with his mouth.

“I have a proposition,” he murmured in your ear, as his hand slipped down to your stomach. You swallowed. “You’re right, I have had a bit of a difficult day at work. What I’d like you to do is to help me forget it. So, I suggest we jerk each other off, and the first one to get off loses.”

His voice was low, husky, thick with his arousal. You bit your lip, trying desperately to will yourself to say the words before lust robbed the capacity of speech from you. “What...what’s at stake?” you managed.

“Pride.”

Hmmm...you could work with that.

His mouth moved to yours, literally devouring you, his kiss hard and dominating, communicating to you with his actions just how much he wanted this. Since pride was at stake - and God knows how  _ proud _ you were - you moved first, quickly wrapping one arm around his neck to support yourself as your other hand slipped down his body, to the waistband of his pants, your fingers quickly working to open up his pants, his zip and plunge your hand down his boxers.

He was already hard, and hardening even more, his cock hot and thick in your hand, his skin smooth. You ran your fingers over the vein on the underside, from his base to his tip and back to his base again. He was already leaking, precum budding at his head, slowly threatening to flow down his shaft. You collected some of it on your thumb, dragging it down. You felt him stiffen, his body slightly shuddering in response to your touch. You smirked into the kiss, feeling a great sense of accomplishment of knowing how easy it was for you to get the great Detective Kylo Solo-Skywalker off.

You squeezed his shaft, and your excitement, both sexual and general increased when you heard his whimper, slight, and quiet. It was almost instantaneous, and the sound disappeared as first as it appeared. You broke the kiss and moved your mouth to his neck, nipping and biting, just hard enough to leave little red marks on his skin. You wanted people to know what he was up to when he went to work the next day. You got the point where neck met shoulder and bit, not hard enough to draw blood, but just enough to sting, and leave a mark. He growled in response, his own face buried in your neck, trying desperately to control his heavy breathing, his hand on your hip tightening. You brushed your knuckles on his balls, feeling them tighten. He was close,  _ so close _ , you knew. It would only take a little bit more instigation to have him spilling himself in your hands. You would  _ relish  _ in it.

“So fucking hard for me,” you breathed in his ear, your cockiness evident. He shuddered again, his muffle expletive buried in your shoulder. You made sure he could hear it, you wanted him to  _ know _ that you were going to get the upper hand this time.

However, you had forgotten one very important point, as you were here, drunk on all the power you wielded. You were, after all, dealing with the great Detective Kylo Solo-Skywalker. His self-control was admirable, exceptionally so.

He managed to hold himself together long enough to sneakily slip his hand down your shirts. You were too busy thinking of prolonging his suffering, deserved as it was, that you’d forgotten yourself that he was the king of schemers, and you promptly remembered it the second he ran his fingers over your clit, before dipping them into your folds.

“Oh,“ you mewled, your knees literally buckling from the pleasure that hit you at his touch. You bit your lip, closing your eyes tight as he dragged his fingers up and down your folds, deliberately avoiding your clit, switching the pressure when you least expected it, effectively driving you to the brink of insanity.

Remembering you were supposed to be getting him off, you squeezed his shaft again, getting a rough gasp out of him, but then, he retaliated by slipping his index finger deep into your cunt, until his first knuckle.

“So fucking wet for me,” he whispered in your ear, his statement a much more salacious version of what you told him earlier. You buried your face into his chest, to hide your whimper. He bent his fingers upwards, dragging them over your walls, before straightening them again and repeating the action. You felt your thighs trembling, your body struggling to hold on, giving out on you sooner than you would have liked.

_ No,  _ you yelled mentally to yourself. You would not lose this time. You  _ refused  _ to lose. He was going to get off first this time. He had to. Your pride was on the line and you were not going to lose it. You managed to hold on yourself,, long enough to pump your hand on his cock, turning your wrist as you moved your hand up and down, putting just enough pressure to drive him over the edge. 

Kylo gasped, for the upteenth time that evening, and it was that sound that convinced you that he was close. You moved your thumb over his head one last time and he let out a low moan, long, deep and erotic, before his dick twitched in your hand, and then he came, spilling himself over your hand, his seed warm and thick. He, in turn pressed your clit with his thumb, bending his fingers again, as you bit your lip and shuddered against him, letting your orgasm take over your body.

You both shuddered as you both regulated yourselves, calming your breathing and getting down from your highs.

“Sneaky,” he said in way of compliment, his smirk more tired than anything else.

“Learnt from the best,” you responded, eyeing his cum still dripping down off your hands. You looked at him, smiling sweetly, nodding your head towards his room.

“Let’s go clean up. We’re both filthy,” you said as you started walking towards aforementioned shower.

You heard his chuckle. “Honestly, Kate, nothing in this world can cleanse you from the fil-”

“Shut the fuck up and just come,” you muttered, trying to hide your humiliation because God knows he was  _ right _ .

Goddammit.


	6. Chapter 6.

You sighed, as you eyed yourself in the full length mirror in front of you, smoothing the creases on your dress pants. Looking behind you you saw Kylo folding up his dress shirt, before pulling his blazer over his broad shoulders.

“Nervous?” he asked as he walked up behind you, his large form towering over you even from feet away. He stood right behind you, placing his large hands on your shoulders before moving them down your arms, seemingly straightening your jacket. You shivered slightly.

You nodded in response to his question, as he fixed your shirt collar over your blazer. You had opted to tie your braids up, which he took upon himself to straighten the ones that were popping out of the rest of them.

“Don’t worry too much. You’ll be fine. I promise you. You’ve prepared and you’ve got all your stuff ready. You can do this,” he murmured, before turning you around and placing a soft kiss on your forehead. You blushed,

“Thank you,” you mumbled shyly, fiddling with your fingers. You breathed out, before squaring your shoulders and walking out of the closet to the kitchen for breakfast. In your head you were already grumbling, not knowing what to make and eat, before you saw some french toast, sausage, bacon, mangoes and yogurt set out at your usual spot.

“I could have made you coffee, but you’d probably pour it in the sink because I fucked it up by not pouring the hot water in your cup at a forty five degree angle so I can hear the beans screaming to death as they get burnt to bring out the proper flavour like Miki does, so I just poured you out some yoghurt instead,” Kylo said, nonchalant as he went through his phone.

You actually laughed at that. You knew you were extra about how you liked your coffee, but you never thought you were  _ that  _ bad. As if he’s read your thoughts, Kylo stopped what he was doing on his phone and looked right out you, his intense gaze piercing your soul. “Yes, you are that particular about your coffee. Don’t argue just accept. Now eat up. I’ll call you a cab. Don’t want you getting late to your interview. I’d have dropped you myself, but you’ve got a suit on and I don’t think that’ll be very comfortable on a motorbike.”

You regarded Kylo, chewing slowly on your french toast. “You don’t have to. I’ll take the bus. Kylo please,” you tried, knowing before you even opened your mouth that he wouldn’t be convinced.

“Taxi will be here in fifteen minutes,” he said, putting his phone on the island before he stood up, going to his room, no doubt to collect his stuff for work.

You just looked at him, an eyebrow raised. You always thought you were the most dramatic person you knew until Kylo happened. He meant well, but if he could chill, it would be, well, more chill.

…

You had finished your interview, and you thought that you had done pretty well, so to reward yourself, you went to Micki’s, the little Ethiopian shop that served what, in your opinion, was the best coffee in the Northern Hemisphere. You took a sip of your prepared coffee and closed your eyes, breathing in in bliss, enjoying the strong flavour and bitterness on your tongue. You’d never stop drinking at this establishment.

Coffee in hand, you begun walking towards the bus stop, so that you could go back to Kylo’s and plan your next step. You’d just gotten to the stop when you saw a somewhat familiar car.

“Katarina? What are you doing here?” you asked, sipping your coffee.

“Det sent me to pick you up. He told me there’s some stuff he’s looking at and he wants you to help him clarify. You busy right now? Heard you had an interview in the morning. You done with that? Got anymore errands to run?”

You shook your head no, walking towards the car and getting in. A lift and subsequent break from walking wouldn’t hurt too much. 

“Nice. Let’s get going then,” Katarina said, as she drove off to the station.

…

You were sitting on Katarina’s desk, reading a book and drinking tea. Generally everyone around you was minding their own business and doing their own thing, but you noticed there were two young women, about your age, who, since you had arrived - which at this point was two hours ago - had been glaring death and hell at you. It felt as though they were trying to incinerate you with their gazes. It was amusing because you knew  _ exactly  _ why they looked at you with such animosity. In fact you could argue  _ everyone  _ knew exactly why they were looking at you with such animosity. Katarina came at you literally cackling.

“They really wish they were in your situation right now,” she said, pulling her paperwork together in preparation for her work.

You furrowed your eyebrows, frowning. Be in your situation? You looked up from your book at her, not understanding why someone would want to be in your situation. “Really? Well, please let them know that being jobless, cashless, homeless and under witness protection really isn’t what I would call an optimal standard of living,” you muttered.

“Yeah, but they’re dumbasses who can’t spell the words ‘critical thinking’, let alone figure out whether it’s a trait they possess. They are thinking in terms of you staying with the Det, and not considering the circumstances of you staying with him in the first place. Though to be fair,” she said, turning around them to eye them with contempt. “They really don’t have the rank to know that you’re under witness protection. If they did know about your current situation they wouldn’t be at that mediocre position for the fourth year running constantly scheming and failing to get into the Det’s pants.”

You snorted into your tea, and you had to quickly move back to prevent it from spilling all over you. Looking around, you could see a variety of winces on everyone’s faces, and someone actually whistled lowly. The ladies in question suddenly went red - whether in humiliation, rage or both you weren’t quite sure - as they were  _ still  _ glaring at you.

You went to the kitchenette to get some kitchen towels so that you could wipe off the spilt tea off the table, still grinning. You knew Katarina was savage but this was really quite something else. You had just finished cleaning up (thank God you had moved fast enough so there was no spillage on you) when Kylo came out of his office.

“Katherine,” he said, looking right at you. Your heart beat increased significantly when you locked gazes with him. “Please come into my office. There’s some documents I’d like you to look at for me.”

He walked back into his office, leaving the door open for you to follow him. You stood up, following him in with your tea in one hand and your book in the other.

“Please close the door behind you.”

You did so, and you noticed that there were no multiple windows in slightly closed, old blinds that had gathered about half an inch. Instead of a desk with mountains of paperwork, there was simply an open file in front of the computer, in a fully walled, air-conditioned office, with a small coffee maker in the corner and a water filter for hot and cold water.

Yet again, television had lied to you. You didn’t know whether to be disappointed or not.

“Here are some of the financial books that we got from your former office. I want you to look at them and tell me everything you can remember, and whether any of it has been changed. If you don’t remember it, it’s fine. The discrepancies are still big enough for us to get the information we need. Please try and be as fast as possible.”

His voice was normal: neutral and official. His body language on the other hand, spoke an entirely different story. He was smirking at you, his general stance very relaxed, his brown eyes slightly darker than normal, his gaze making you feel very inappropriate things deep in between your legs.

Despite this (you were sure he was scheming something), you took  the books he was talking about and had a look at them. You immediately remembered why you hated filling the books so much. It took so much effort and was so boring. Nonetheless, this was for a very important investigation, so you steeled yourself and decided to plough through it.

From memory, everything seemed normal.Generally if Mr. Strasson wanted to make correction he’d normally make them with a red pen, cancelling what you had put in and adding in or removing whatever he wanted and replacing them with his own values. He would then return the books back to you. He never expected you to go over his corrections or redo them (the only things you would appreciate him for, if you were being quite honest with yourself), but you always made it a point to see if he had done any corrections and then vow to go through them later. That was how you were able to realise that he was into some seriously illegal shit in the first place.

“Yeah, this seems just about right. I can’t identify any changes,” you noted, before handing the books back to Kylo. not knowing whether or not you could leave, you sat back in your chair and continued to read your book. Kylo said nothing for the next couple of minutes, choosing, instead to just eyeball you.

It was quite unnerving knowing he was just sitting there staring at you, and you realised that you had read the same sentence about five times before you heard his voice, very amused this time.

“Did you finish your popsicles?”

You froze, your face suddenly burning. He did  _ not  _ go there.

“I...did yeah.”

“Hmm, I was just curious. I opened the freezer to get some scotch yesterday and the box was empty. That was quite fast, I must say. You finally learnt how to suck dick properly?”

“Want me to test it out on you then you can give me your verdict?” The words were out of your mouth faster than you could stop them, and the second you finished saying that statement you regretted it. 

You risked a glance up and his smirk said everything. There was that feeling in your belly again.

“Come,” he ordered. You contemplated disobeying, but his tone is what got you swallowing, thinking how good it would feel to have his cock in your mouth. He was  _ not _ asking, or requesting. Like he had done many times in the past, he had ordered you, and somehow that authoritative tone always managed to turn you on.

You took a deep breath, before standing up and walking to him. He had moved behind on his chair, sinking a little lower on it, his long legs wide open as he encouraged you to stand in between them as he unbuckled his belt and opened his pants.

“Get down on your knees.” His voice had dropped an octave, huskier, and he held onto his armrests as if his life depended on it. You did as he said, and  _ completely refusing  _ to look him in the eye, reached out for him, thick,bulging and swollen in his boxers. He was already aroused, and you could anticipate that he was getting harder as the seconds ticked by. You internally relished in that, literally feeling your mouth water, as you reached for him, your hand landing at the base of his cock as it sprung out, smiling mischievously as you felt his breath hitch when you ran your thumb on the vein under him, watching precum bead on his head, leaking out in anticipation. You ran your thumb over his head, most likely very sensitive at this point, literally having to move your hand up to reach because of how big he was. You ran your forefinger down his shaft, leaving a trail of precum on it, and you saw him shudder. Curiously, you sucked your finger, wondering what he tasted like, but mostly to see his reaction.

“Fuck,” he whimpered. Good enough, you thought.

Without giving him a moment’s respite you immediately took him in, wrapping your lips around his tip and sinking down onto him. He let out a moan, long, low and deep as one of his hands immediately grabbed your braids at the back of your head. He was  _ massive,  _ and you tried fitting as much of him as you could into your mouth, feeling his tip hit the back of your throat. The next time you moved up, you used your tongue to lick the underside of his cock, watching your saliva coat his dick, before you got to his tip sucking on it.

He gasped roughly, bucking his hips upwards. You pushed him down, holding him there as you sunk yourself back onto him. He fidgeted a little bit, but at this point you had the power. Slowly, you set a rhythm, bobbing your head slowly on his cock. You managed to sneak a glance up at him through your lashes, and you thought he looked phenomenal like that, in the throes of pleasure. He had thrown his head back, eyes closed, lips slightly parted, his chest rising up and down. His hair was slightly disheveled, with one of his hands grabbing his seat like a lifeline and the other hand grabbing the back your braids. You made sure to swirl your tongue over and around him when you moved, occasionally swallowing and moaning around him as well.

“Shit,” he whispered, shifting slightly above you again. “I’m going to-” he choked, before you felt his cock twitch on your tongue and then he growled, and then he came, spilling himself in your mouth, his cum thick and warm. He glanced down at you, eyes half-lidded as you swallowed around him, trying to elongate his orgasm for as long as you could. He bit his lip, swearing under his breath, his eyelids shuttering closed as he arched himself upwards and you blushed, his cock still in your mouth, as his hips twitched, going through the last stages of his orgasm.

You let go of him with a pop, his hand still holding your hair.

“Swallow,” he commanded, and you did, before he pulled you over his body and devoured your mouth. He kissed you for a moment, before he broke off and for a moment just looked at you. He lifted his hand, running a thumb down your chin, where some of his seed had spilled out of your mouth because he’d cum that much.

“So, how d’you grade me? B+? A+? S?”

He snorted, and then chuckled. “S. Definitely S. Those popsicles served you well.”

“Why thank you. Glad to have been of service.”

He got that lopsided smile again. “How’d the interview go?”

You smiled in return. “I think it went really well. I’m hoping I get that job. I think I’ll really enjoy it.”

“Then maybe you can permanently move in with me. I need the company and companionship. It’ll also stop Ben unceremoniously crashing when he’s had too much to drink.”

You huffed. “Is this your way of...asking me out?”

He paused. “Actually it’s my way of asking you to be mine. It’s cool if you don’t wanna though.”

“Kylo, has anyone ever told you how much of a fucking dumbass you are?”

“Matt always does, but more often than not, I ignore him.?

You sighed. These were some necessary changes you definitely liked. “I wanna meet your brothers.”

“No you don’t. You really don’t.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, another end to another (shorter) project. Thank you all so much for reading, commenting, kudos'ing lurking etc. I'd like to give a special shoutout to TheJediSlayer, as Detective!Kylo was her idea in the first place, and though she's miles and miles a better writer than I am, she graciously allowed me to indulge myself in her ideas and drabbles.
> 
> I'd also like to holla at knightsoforgana, for she enabled me like the true friend she is. After all, is true friendship not enabling your friends to write inappropriate shit of our favourite fictional characters in random AUs?
> 
> I really do appreciate your support, and please I beg you go read my other stuff (and theJediSlayer, same on both tumblr and here and knightsoforgana who is rossequartzz on here). They have some quality content. I mean, I just write garbage, but it's good quality garbage. AYYYYYYYYYYYYY. We really need that writer's validation. Thanks and bless.
> 
> Anyway, Peace y'all, and see ya around! <3


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